


From the Dark

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Coersion, Erotic Electrostimulation, Kidnapping, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: In a post-pacifist timeline, Chara takes back control of Frisk's body and decides it's time to have a little fun with Sans.





	From the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Chara/Sans [Sort of Frisk/Sans also], kidnapping, non-con, bondage, electrocution, coercion. Post-soulless pacifist, Frisk’s body is all grown up, Chara is a decades old ghost so no underage here.

Sans blinked blearily awake, holding himself still until the room could sharpen into focus around him. Even now, years later, he couldn’t shake the cold dread that he’d suddenly find himself back in his old room in Snowdin, with its muddy brown walls and the quiet whoosh of the trash tornado in the corner. When they moved to the surface, he’d made a point to change things up as much as possible. Their new apartment was much smaller, so much that there was only one bedroom for he and Pap to share, but that was fine by him. There was nothing more reassuring then getting to wake up every morning to see his brother stomping around in the space between their beds, complaining about the encroaching sock army that was starting to venture out from under the dresser. The walls were a deep blue, embellished with ships and arching roadways on Papyrus’s side, and dotted with sloppy stars on Sans’s side. He’d told Pap they should decorate it to make it feel more like home, but really, he wanted to plant as much evidence as possible of how things were different now. It helped in those first dazed moments upon waking, easing him into relieved coherence instead of panicked anguish.

But the room wasn’t resolving into the familiar shapes he was used to. He squinted, but the walls were a dark, grey brick, rough and unfinished. The floor was concrete, and completely barren. The only light was a harsh, fluorescent box that cast stark shadows over everything. The air was clammy with the kind of chill that reminded him too much of being underground. Was this some sort of basement?

(They didn’t have a basement any more. Sans had left the machine back in Snowdin – left it to  _rot_.)

He sat up…or tried too, rolling awkwardly onto his side and wriggling uselessly for a minute before he realised that he couldn’t use his arms. They were locked behind his back with something that clinked and rattled as he moved. Handcuffs?

A soft chuckle jolted him out of his bewilderment. He lurched around, eyes narrowing, and nestled in one of the dark corners he could barely make out a familiar outline.

“Kid?” he asked, but even as he said it, doubt crept into his voice. It  _looked_  like Frisk, with tousled hair still that still refused to be tamed and broad shoulders that had started taking shape at the onset of puberty, but their eyes…

Something was wrong, but it was an uncomfortably familiar kind of wrong. Sans drew himself up, balancing awkwardly on his tailbone. He tried again, unnerved by the lack of response. “Hey, kid?”

“I haven’t been a child for a long time, Sans.”

There was something blood-curdling about that voice, which Sans felt qualified to assess despite his lack of a circulatory system. The timbre and tone was all wrong, but somehow it was still Frisk’s voice underneath. The effect was almost as jarring as the unfamiliar basement; as the handcuffs.

He tried to smile. “You’ll always be one to me, kiddo.”

It was a little difficult to reconcile some days. He’d known Frisk when the kid had been shorter than he was. These days, the Ambassador was nearly as tall as Papyrus with a physique hardened by Undyne’s relentless training.

“That’s a shame,” Frisk – not!Frisk? – said, moving closer. They didn’t bother to stand, just crawling forwards on hands and knees like some sort of predatory beast. Sans resisted the urge to scramble backwards. “That could make this kind of awkward for you.”

A shaft of light caught on Frisk’s face, and Sans blanched. It was Frisk, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Frisk’s expression didn’t rest in such agonising stillness, as if all the muscles in their face had paralysed except those around their lips which were stretched wide in a ghastly smile. Frisk didn’t lunch, zombielike, with stutters of movement as if their limbs were being guided by invisible marionette strings, imitating natural motion.

“What…?” Sans had a dozen questions and he couldn’t figure out which one to ask first.  _What are you doing? What do you want? What’s with the handcuffs?_ _ **What are you?**_

The last one seemed especially pertinent. Whatever it was, he didn’t think it was human even if it was currently inhabiting Frisk’s body, or an extremely close facsimile of it.

“Tell me, Sans,” the thing murmured, its eyes gleaming at him from beneath Frisk’s bangs. They seemed lit with an eerie crimson glow. “Do you wanna have a bad time?”

Sans felt his eye glowing, bright, angry cyan distorting his vision. He would have to finish this quickly. “No thanks.”

There was a loud crack, like a thunderbolt. Something wrenching and and awful spammed through his chest, and suddenly he found himself on his back again, blinking up at the ceiling.

Delighted, maniacal laughter pealed through his head, aggravating the new headache that had bloomed when his skull hit the floor. The creature was leaning over him now, but for the moment he was too stunned to feel afraid.

“Did you like that?” it asked, holding up a small box with a single switch. “Electricity. Just a tiny little jolt. I wouldn’t even feel it, probably. Humans have a lot of physical matter in them, you know. High resistance. Monsters, however…”

Sans craned his neck to one side and coughed up a dark, sour mouthful of ash and smoke onto the floor. His head was still spinning, barely able to focus. His wrists burned also, giving him an idea of where the jolt had originated from. His skull lolled weakly as the creature grabbed the sides of his jaw, angling his face to look at it. “It took me a long time to get back here, but you and I are gonna have so much fun. I’m sure you’ll make it worth all the effort.”

It straddled him, Frisk’s larger body completely dwarfing his form, and where its hips crushed his he could feel a heated bulge distending the front of Frisk’s trousers. For a moment he was paralysed by stupid disbelief, and then by revulsion, before finally regaining enough sense to start thrashing. “Hell no! Get off!”

It simply let its weight rest on him, and just as it had said, humans had a lot more physical matter. Even with his arms free, Sans would have had trouble shifting its mass. He tried looking for its soul, but the moment he lifted his gaze the creature held up the little remote again and instinct made Sans go still.

“You learn fast,” it smirked at him. “I’m not sure if this could actually kill you, but I don’t mind finding out if you keep testing me.”

It leaned down, breathing hot air against his face. “You know, when I thought I was fading, you were the only thing that kept me going. All those times you faced me. All those times you beat me. And every time, I couldn’t help myself. I had to get back up and try again, just to see what would happen when I won.

“Well now, you’re going to show me the answer, Sans. Don’t disappoint me, okay?”

Sans tried to keep his body as lax as possible. “Sorry, kid, but uh, disappointment’s probably the best you can expect. I ain’t got nothin’ for ya.”

“I bet that’s not true,” the thing murmured with a hideous sort of affection in its voice. “I can think of all sorts of things I still want to see from you.”

Its hand wrapped carefully around his neck, and Sans tensed despite his best efforts not to let it see him squirm. He was uncomfortably sure now that this was Frisk’s body. Even a convincing copy wouldn’t have the rough crease of callouses across its fingers from holding practice spears, and Sans could feel the friction of them pressing into his delicate cervical vertebrae. He could feel the easy strength in Frisk’s muscles too, and braced himself for the sharp, inevitable snap, but the creature seemed content to simply hold him in place

“Are you afraid?” it asked him almost sweetly, its grip on his throat gently tightening and loosening as if in practice.

Sans was just considering that question himself. He could feel the frantic beats of his soul as it begged him to flee, but beyond that he still felt a little too shell-shocked for real fear to have sunk in. The creature in front of him was such a surreal threat. He didn’t quite know what to expect.

“That depends,” he hedged, trying to covertly twist his wrist against the cuff that encircled it. Unfortunately the kid must have made allowances for the narrowness of his bones. There was barely any room for movement, let alone to try and slip his hand free. “If you were just looking to see what happens when you kill me, I hate to tell you but all you’re gonna get is a dusty floor.”

But he had a feeling that wasn’t really what it wanted. The disturbing bulge at its groin spelled that out rather explicitly. Sans tried hard not to move against it, but that didn’t stop him from being unbearably aware of the heat it gave off, pressed into his pelvis as it was.

“And if that’s what you’re after,” he continued with a meaningful flick of his eyelights towards Frisk’s waist, “then, uh, not only do you have some pretty serious issues, but it’s probably not gonna be nearly as fun as you think. I’m just a skeleton, kiddo. There’s really not a lot these bones can do for you.”

“Now that’s a lie,” it said, leering wickedly at him, its teeth a ghoulish sort of white in the red heat of its mouth. “Magic makes all sorts of things possible, doesn’t it?”

Sans laughed humourlessly. “I dunno about other monsters, but that’s not how I get my kicks. And if I’m not feeling it? Nothing’s gonna happen. Sorry, kid.”

Its eyes narrowed, distorted smirk twisting disturbingly for just a second before smoothing over again. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure you’re feeling properly motivated. Let me show you something.”

It reached into a pocket and brought out a phone that Sans recognised instantly from the dangling keychain that proudly declared, ‘I make awful science puns but only periodically,’ a gift from Toriel. He reflexively made to sit up, only to have the reprimanding grip on his throat force him back down again.

“Ah ah,” the creature chided, letting him watch as it thumbed through Sans’s contact list and rapidly brought up Papyrus’s number. “Just watch.”

It hit the dial button, and Sans drew a breath, ready to shout the moment the line connected, but just as quickly the creature cancelled the call. Sans blinked, confused, until a moment later his phone started buzzing with an incoming call. Papyrus, of course.

The creature let it ring. It obviously wasn’t going to answer, but after a few long pulses the call was redirected to his messages, and it quickly flicked the option that let it play over the loudspeaker.

“SANS!? DID YOU CALL? OR DID YOU JUST SIT ON YOUR PHONE AGAIN?”

Hearing his brother’s voice was like an unexpected punch to the gut. Sans tried to keep his face neutral as the creature watched him carefully, smirking as Papyrus sighed emphatically over the phone.

“I WISH YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD ME THAT YOU WERE GOING OUT TODAY. I WAS HOPING WE COULD SPEND SOME QUALITY BROTHERLY TIME TOGETHER.”

Sans wished they could too. He squirmed in discomfort under the creature’s weight, cold concrete digging into his shoulder-blades. Papyrus audibly gathered himself, and his next sentence was full of renewed vigour.

“BUT NO MATTER! I AM GLAD THAT YOU ARE GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE MORE OFTEN. THE HUMAN SUGGESTED THEY MIGHT WANT TO VISIT LATER FOR A FUN EVENING OF PUZZLES AND COOKING, SO DO NOT CONCERN YOURSELF! THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS MANY FRIENDS WITH WHICH TO SPEND HIS VALUABLE TIME!”

Sans’s eyes went wide, and the awful creature beamed at him, its gaze heavy-lidded and hungry.

“I SHALL SEE ABOUT ARRANGING A FORMAL INVITATION,” Papyrus continued obliviously. “HAVE A GOOD DAY, BROTHER! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WILL NOT BE HOME FOR DINNER THIS TIME!”

The call ended with a click. Almost immediately a new ringtone sounded. The creature casually pocketed Sans’s phone, and brought out Frisk’s instead, the screen brightly flashing with a picture of Papyrus’s smiling face.

“What do you think, Sans?” it asked, leering down at him. “If you don’t want to play with me, I can always go play with your brother instead. Should I answer him?”

Sans shut his eye-sockets, gritting his teeth. The thing obviously knew him well enough to manipulate him expertly. “No.”

It cruelly waited a few moments longer, and Sans wondered if it was going to force him to beg, but apparently his acquiescence was enough to grant him a reprieve. It put the phone back in its pocket, and resettled itself across his hips.

“Then you better make sure to keep me entertained,” it told him, leaning heavily on his chest and flicking its tongue out against his teeth. He flinched, but resisted the instinctive urge to turn his head away from it. It laughed against his mouth, its breath wet and sickly sweet.

“What do you want?” he asked it tiredly, steeling against the self-disgust that was sure to follow. It reached behind him with its newly freed hand, tugging his shorts down. He kept still, unwilling to either assist or impede its actions. “You really want to fuck me?”

It smiled blissfully. “I want to destroy you.”

“Won’t be too hard,” Sans muttered grimly as it finally managed to coax his shorts down over his ankles. “You know that, right? One HP…”

“Oh Sans,” it cooed, the hand on his neck sliding carefully over each vertebrae. “Don’t worry. I’ve learned to be careful. These days I only break my toys on purpose.”

How reassuring. Even so, Sans didn’t offer any resistance as eager fingers pawed over the newly exposed curves of his pelvis. His breath hitched, and he tried to find an innocuous point on the ceiling to stare at.

“Fine. If this is gonna work, you’ll have to be gentle. That’s, ah. How you make the magic happen.”

Immediately the hungry exploration slowed, lingering more deliberately over the peaks and dips of his pubis. Sans closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. God, this was difficult. His magic absolutely didn’t want to come out to participate in this awful business. He’d have to convince it that it did.


End file.
